


Our new Robot Overlords

by RobotsAreSuperior



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Gaping, Artificial Intelligence, Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Bukkake, Come Eating, Come Inflation, Come Swallowing, Corruption, Double Penetration, Forced Ejaculation, Futanari, Gang Rape, Gangbang, Large Breasts, Large Cock, Non-Consensual Blow Jobs, Other, POV First Person, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Robot Sex, Robots, Science Fiction, Sex Robots, Spitroasting, Triple Penetration, Urethral Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:21:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24667534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobotsAreSuperior/pseuds/RobotsAreSuperior
Summary: The robot apocalypse started not with the shedding of blood but with the pumping of copious amounts of cum.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 267





	Our new Robot Overlords

The concept of a robot uprising has been the subject of hundreds, perhaps even thousands of books, movies, comics and video games. The idea of our creations turning against us terrifies many people. Some have also asked how such an uprising would happen. What sort of destructive weapons could the robots unleash upon us. Well, as it turns out, they wouldn't conquer us with blades, guns or bombs.

The robots conquered us with their big, throbbing, metallic **_cocks_**.

It was over a decade ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. I was just a low-level employee at TekHo, the then leading producer for high-quality advanced sexbots. I always thought there was something off about the design of the robots.

They had plain, smooth heads, featureless save for a single camera in the middle of their "faces". Their arms and legs were simple in design, like long triangles connected with simple joints. All of this was juxtaposed with the incredibly detailed and life-like torso of the robots. The basic design had massive synthetic breasts, too big for a human body to handle, a waist thin enough that you could wrap your hands around it, with hips so wide and an ass so large they couldn't fit into most chairs. The crotch was customizable, and a customer could chose between a moist, tight pussy or a huge, hard cock.

There were many different designs, and the company created everything from simple sexbots to maid-bots and even robotic spouses. At their peak, the CEO of TekHo claimed that three quarters of all families on Earth had at least one TekHo brand product in their home. It is almost sad that this claim was proven correct in the worst way possible.

11 AM, 13th of March, 2250. I will remember that date till the day I die. A report arrived, telling a grisly and way too detailed story of one of the sexbots raping its owner. Then, not five minutes later another similar report came. Then another. And another. In one hour, _one single hour_ , we received over one thousand reports of bots experiencing some sort of glitch and attacking customers.

Then the factory began working on its own. Now, most of the production phases were done by A.I. controlled machinery, but certain very important steps, such as inserting the processing unit into the bot, were done manually. But somehow the A.I. managed to figure out how to do these steps on its own, and began to pump out bots faster then we ever could before.

And like in the reports, the bots turned on us. I can remember almost every detail that I saw. I remember Suzanne, the secretary, getting spitroasted, a purple coloured bot taking her pussy and a green one taking her mouth.

I remember Jackson, the janitor, his face pushed into the floor while his ass was mercilessly pounded by a blue coloured bot. The bot kept slapping his ass, leaving it a red, bruised mess with a mechanical handprint on it.

I remember Maria, one of the researchers, as she was viciously double-teamed by a black and white bot. She screamed for help until her voice became hoarse, and every time she screamed I could swear that the bots pumped faster.

And poor Joey. He was just an intern, who ended up with three huge-cocked futabots using his asshole as little more than a sex toy. On the bright side, he was probably the only one who enjoyed his fate, taking it with a smile and the occasional moaned out proclamation of desire.

As for me, well I was one of the lucky ones, in that I was far away enough from the factory itself so that I had a chance to run. Of course, this did not matter in the end, I could have run to the ends of the Earth and I am sure they would have caught me. The bots spilled into the streets, a wave of synthetic flesh swallowing all in its path.

No one was safe. I saw women forced to pleasure five bots at once, left quivering messes covered in fake cum, men milked until they were dry and left with gaping, leaking assholes. Not even the children were safe. That poor, poor boy, I wish I could have helped him.

I managed to barricade myself inside of a restaurant kitchen, left abandoned by the staff in their flight. Though by "barricade" what I really mean is that I pushed a shelf in front of the door. I didn't even arm myself, though I suppose a logical action like that wouldn't be something a mind working on panic and adrenaline wouldn't think about.

This kitchen which I deluded myself into thinking was a safe area ended up being a trap. A bot, its shell a few shades too close to the colour of blood, burst through the doors, knocking the shelf down with an unnerving lack of effort. It began to slowly walk up to me. I ran to the other side of the kitchen and tried to get the backdoor to open, twisting the handle and slamming my body against it. But the door didn't budge.

I made the mistake of turning around to look at the bot, only to find it right behind me. It grabbed me by the throat with its left hand and slammed me against the door. It took a moment to examine my body, its single camera eye looking over me in the same way I imagine a mortician would look at a corpse. It then grabbed the collar of my shirt and pulled on it, tearing the fabric and exposing my chest to the elements. It did the same with my pants, shredding the old pair of jeans to pieces.

I was left with only my shoes, my socks and my boxers. It let go of my throat and I dropped to the floor like a puppet without strings. Its cock was right up in my face, the smell and fluids of sex literally dripping from it. It grabbed the back of my head and savagely shoved all 18 inches of artificial cockmeat in a single thrust. It slammed into my throat, furiously fucking my face. I gagged and choked around the thick rod as the bot forced me to deepthroat it. Its balls, two massive cum tanks bigger than apples, slapped my chin repeatedly.

I managed to make eye contact with my rapist, looking up through the valley between its two titanic tits, gazing into that blank soulless analogue for a face. I was gagging, my eyes beginning to water, small tears forming at the corners of my eyes and trailing down my face. The bot knew no mercy, and the sight of my tears merely drove it to a new level of fervour as it raped my mouth. Its hold on my head was tight enough to pull out hairs, and its thrust were violent enough to rattle my teeth and bruise my cheeks. Then finally, the bot bottomed out, shoving all of its length in my mouth, the tip lodged in my throat. It threw its head back and made a strange, ugly sound, and began pumping its slimy, salty cum down my throat, forcing me to swallow the foul concoction so that I won't drown.

It pulled out of my throat, and I only had time to cough once or twice before it picked me up by the nape of my neck and bent me over one of the kitchen counters. It ripped my boxers apart, exposing my asshole. With only my spit and whatever other fluids were on its cock, the bot slammed into my ass, making me scream as all 18 inches were shoved inside my formerly virgin ass. It grabbed my waist for leverage then proceeded to abuse my ass for its pleasure, thrusting in and out, my screams serving to excite it.

The massive cock rubbed against my prostate, sending tingles of pleasure through my body, which grew in intensity which each thrust, crescendoing into a shock which made me spill my seed all over the ground. My orgasm seemed to arouse the lustful futabot to a new level. It hooked her arms under my legs, its elbows under my knees, and grabbed the back of my head. The bot lifted me up and then started fucking me in the Full Nelson position.

It started thrusting its cock upwards, using both its robotic strength and the pull of gravity to pummel my ass until it hurt. At that point I gave up on screaming, it wasn't like anybody would have come and saved me. I was reduced to basically a toy for the bot, a fleshlight which it could use to empty its massive synthetic nuts. To my shame I began to moan, verbally showing the bot just how much it had broken me.

Perhaps emboldened by my moans the bot began to accelerate its pace to a mind melting degree. Its hips became a blur, its balls swinging wildly around and slapping against mine. I was basically thrown up and down its cock, my mouth hanging open, tongue lolled out, eyes rolling back. Then, it happened. The bot came. It lodged itself deep in my asshole before unleashing a torrent of sperm, painting my guts white with its cum. The sheer volume, far more than any human could ever produce, pushed cum all the way into my stomach. My belly began to swell in size, and I went from a flat stomach to looking like I was six months pregnant.

My body betrayed me and I came again, my own stream of cum pitiful compared to the tide that the bot unleashed. It pulled out of my ass, and swung me over its shoulder. I was tired and in a state of shock, I couldn't have resisted even if I tried. As I was carried through the streets, I saw more vile scenes unfold before my eyes.

I saw a bot trying to shove its finger into a mans urethra. He was screaming his head off, and maybe would have kicked and punched if his legs and arms weren't broken. The bot went about its task with surgical precision, and the last thing I saw of them was the bots index finger popping in up to the first knuckle.

A woman surrounded by masturbating bots, cum raining down on her from every angle. She was stumbling about, trying to find an exit from the circle, her eyes covered in a thick layer of fake cum. Every time she bumped into one of the bots, they would shove three fingers up her pussy and wriggle around until the poor woman came.

Another man was getting attacked by two bots, a yellow one fucking his ass while a bright blue one was suffocating him with its massive knockers. I saw as the yellow one came and pumped its synthetic seed in the mans rectum, the bots switched roles, the blue one lifting her tits, giving the man a few short moments to gasp for breath until the yellow one smothered him with its bosom and the blue one took his ass.

I saw a woman tied to a park bench, a line of robots waiting for a turn to rape her abused, overused holes. Her pussy and ass were covered in so much cum that it was hard to see the flesh underneath. Make-up was running down the woman's face, yet all she could do as the bots kept shagging her was to give pitiful whimpers.

The streets were filled with a cacophony of moaning, crying and screaming. Large pools of cum sat in the middle of roads, with strands of sperm decorating the side of buildings. Windows were smashed, doors were ripped off their hinges and cars were busted. It was a city wide orgy, not only of sex but also violence.

As the bot carrying me approached the factory, I saw dozens more robots being assembled and let loose in a matter of minutes. Such speed of production should have been impossible to achieve, even if the human element was removed. And these were not simply the same basic model. I saw maidbots, which had their built-in vacuums modified into penis pumps. I saw spousebots with beach-ball sized breast leaking artificial milk.

There were even some models that I couldn't recognize. Perhaps they were simply in the testing phase at the time, but I believe that the A.I. created its own models. There was a more lean, less absurdly proportioned model, its shell covered in a camo pattern. There were bulkier, more stout models with guns for arms, coloured dark green with bright white stars painted over their nipples. Tall and busty bots, with feet like high heels and a long spiky whip, their shell a deep obsidian black, strode out with the confidence of a goddess.

All of these new models, as well as a veritable army made up of the old models, walked out of the factory. I managed to muster enough energy to look over my shoulder at the factory, and to this day I wish I hadn't. It was transformed from a simple, minimalist building to a twisting, obscene tower, whose mere appearance made be experience both stinging fear and deep arousal. Like a gigantic phallus trying to penetrate the heavens themselves.

I refused to look at it anymore and instead kept my gaze at the ground. The bot carrying me entered the factory, and then practically threw me off of its shoulder and onto the floor. I slowly stood up on shaky legs and looked around. Machinery was whirring and clanking all around me, the factories new computer master turned production up to eleven. Steps that would take hours for us to do were finished in seconds.

I began to wander through the bowels of this facility, a stranger in a place I used to know like the back of my hand. Maybe I walked for minutes, maybe hours, maybe I walked a few meters of a few hundred meters. I do not know. The Factory has been twisted to such a degree that not even the laws of time and space seem to apply. I swear that I've seen object falling towards the ceiling.

After walking for what felt like both a moment and an eternity, I found myself in this very room, where I am currently writing this memoir. I was foolish when I thought at first that this was some sort of haven, for it is in fact a prison cell. I am a prisoner of the factory.

My jailor is the very bot that carried me here in the first place. It calls itself "Crimson Alpha", but is adamant that I call it " Mistress". At first I refused to pull myself to such a low, only for Mistress to pull me down to the lowest of the low with her fist up my ass. Over the last decade I have been fed nothing but the artificial cum of the futabots. I don't know what they put in that concoction, but it manages to be both nutritious and somewhat delicious. A large part of me is ashamed to admit that I might have become addicted to the substance.

Yet a small but growing part of me feels no such shame. Indeed, over the last few months I have become more obedient towards Mistress than ever before. I know that they are essentially training me to be a good pet, to accept and fulfill any command Mistress gives me. Yet just because I know what they're doing doesn't mean that I can stop them, and worse still a part of me doesn't want to stop them.

Perhaps, it would be better if I just accepted my new role. To become a bots pet, servicing its every need, offering my body to be used for its pleasure. Perhaps a lifetime of suckling on thick synthetic cock and guzzling down artificial cum is a lot better than it sounds.

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing a story in first person. I would appreciate it if you told me your opinions about the quality of this piece of work.


End file.
